


Honeyed Tea

by Kiwikiwi591



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, One Shot, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 11:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1427152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiwikiwi591/pseuds/Kiwikiwi591
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even Sherlock knows that sometimes, it's the little things that count.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honeyed Tea

**Author's Note:**

> This one is actually based partially of of a roleplay I did with someone on Omegle. We got through the texting part before they disconnected; I ended up loving what was there so much that I decided to finish it. So, thank you, whoever you are!

John sighed as he walked towards the checkout of Tesco, annoyed with the long lines. As always, Sherlock had left the grocery shopping to him alone. In all honesty, he was kind of happy that he didn’t tag along; he did nothing but complain the few times he _did_ come shopping. A buzz came from his pocket a couple moments later. He retrieved his phone, but froze at the text on screen.

_John, why is your sister on our couch? -SH_

He sighed in exasperation, rolling his eyes. It was probably just a ploy to get him home sooner, but he replied nonetheless.

_She isn't supposed to be. JW_

He stopped again at a sudden thought, sent another text.

_Does she look drunk? JW_

_I can smell alcohol from the other side of the flat. She's in the way of my notes, John. –SH_

Shit. Sherlock could make up the stupidest lies at times to get him home, but John knew he wouldn’t lie about that. He set the basket on a nearby shelf, and walked quickly out of the store, ignoring the dirty look a nearby clerk gave him

_I'll be home soon. Make yourself something to eat, I'll have her out of your way as quick as I can. JW_

Once he got out to the sidewalk, John hailed a cab, quickly jumping in and giving the address. A couple moments later, his phone buzzed again.

_She appears to be waking up. Should I get her something as well? -SH_

_If you would be so kind. JW_

_I'll try and gather something up. –SH_

John smiled at the phone screen.

_You're fantastic. JW_

_You can't even resist the compliments when you're texting. -SH_

_I really can't. They just happen. JW_

_You give me so many, you forget to see how wonderful you are. -SH_

_Oh, hush, you. JW_

_I'm absolutely nothing in comparison to you. JW_

_No, I'm serious, John. I might be fantastic, amazing, and any other words in the English language you can think of, but you're that and so much more. My wonderful conductor of light. -SH_

_Toast is burnt. I got distracted texting you. Harry is going to get burnt toast because you couldn't resist starting a sentimental conversation. –SH_

John stared at the screen, the biggest smile spreading across his face. His irritation with Harry was completely overshadowed by the rare complement from the other man. It was true that they often showed little gestures of affection towards each other, but Sherlock almost never just came right out and told his feelings. The couple of times it did happen, it was one of the most wonderful feelings in the world.

_God, Sherlock. You really are wonderful. Thank you, love. JW_

_And she'll survive. She probably won't even taste it. JW_

_You're right. She's eating it without protest. I'm not entirely sure if she even knows where she is. –SH_

_She'll probably ask you plenty of crude questions. Ignore them. JW_

John sighed again. He knew things were going to be rough once he finally confronted her. It definitely wasn’t how he’d wanted to spend his morning.

_Get home soon. I miss you. –SH_

It was astounding sometimes how someone who could be so cold most of his day could always know the perfect thing to say when it was needed.

 _I miss you, too, Sher. But I'll be there shortly. JW_  
  
Moments after he'd sent the message, John was paying his cab driver for the ride home. He'd given Harriet a spare key to their flat a long time ago, in case she ever found herself in trouble. In case she ever needed a safe place to stay. Not if she was drunk, and couldn't find her way home. In fact, she wasn't even supposed to be drinking. And the fact that she ended up there, of all places, _drunk,_ made John's blood boil.  
As he came into the flat, he went straight to Sherlock, wrapping his arms around the other man and putting his pounding forehead against the curve of his shoulder.

"I'm going to kill her," he muttered, his entire stomach flipping in nervousness.

Sherlock held onto John tightly, just wanting to feel their embrace for a moment; to know that his John was home safely another day.

"That might not be a good idea, since you have no alibi," he muttered into his hair. "Although I suppose I could try to prove you innocent." he said.

He stood back, giving John a warm smile to try and calm his nerves. There was a groan from the couch a moment later, and Sherlock turned to look. Harriet was slowly sitting herself up, rubbing her head. After a couple of confused, painful blinks, she looked up to the two men.

"John..?" She said slowly.

The embrace was exactly what John needed. Sherlock's arms always did something to John, made him feel calm and comfortable; they took him to a much more wonderful place. God, was he thankful for it.

"You're the best, love," he joked, kissing Sherlock's cheek before having to guide his eyes toward Harriet.

There was the anger, again. He hated having to play mother to his older sister, hated having to see her make bad decisions that would make their mother roll over in her grave, and their father have yet another heart attack. John loved his sister, but it was tough having to take care of her for so long.

"Why did you come here, Harry?" John asked, voice unnecessarily loud and harsh.

Harry jumped at John's sharp tone. She sat in shock for a second, not saying anything. Then, tears formed in her eyes.

"John, I didn't know what else to do! I was doing well, I hadn't touched any drinks for _months_ , but all it took was one night out. A friend offered me something, and I denied it. We were celebrating 4 months sober, I didn't want to start again. But one of the guys there must have either not known, or didn't care. He spiked my drink." She looked down then, breathed deep. "I knew what was in the drink the second I tasted it. But I couldn't stop. I just kept going and going. I don't know what happened to the rest of my friends. Maybe they left when I started to get drunk. But the man, the same one who spiked my drink, he was following me outside. I didn't know what else to do, so I came here."

She got up, shakily, and fell onto John. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry..." She said.

He hadn't expected that, not at all. And now, he felt terrible for being angry at her. To be fair, she shouldn't have been anywhere near drinks, she knew how she could be. With an armful of his sister, John looked over at Sherlock with a terrified glance, begging for help. He turned back, and helped his sister back onto the couch, fixing her up and helping her wipe her eyes.

"It's okay, it's okay," he hushed her, sitting beside her and patting her back, "you did the right thing, Harry, you did." He offered her a tissue to blow her nose with. "He didn't hurt you, or give you any trouble coming here, did he?"

"No, no, once he saw where I was going, he backed off. I don't even know who he was," she said, taking the tissue. "I'm just happy it's over. I want to get away from it, John. The drinking. I'm done being this way."

John nodded as he listened; rubbing his hand up and down Harriet's back, trying to get her to stop crying. The outburst had even made John uncomfortable, so he could hardly imagine how this was making Sherlock feel. He asked Harriet small questions; if she had her phone, if she was still living with her girlfriend, how things were going with that…

Sherlock was still standing in the middle of the room, uncomfortable from the sudden outburst of emotions from the two of them. He looked at John and saw the pleading look in his eyes. Sherlock racked his brain, trying to think of something to help the situation. He tried to put himself in John's place; what would he do if he saw someone that upset? Sherlock finally thought of something, and hoped it would work.

He gave a small, sad smile to both of them, and said "How about some tea?"

John's heart swelled. "That sounds perfect, love." his voice turned into honey and sugar, so incredibly thankful. "I'll come help you in a moment?"

Sherlock nodded and stepped into the kitchen, turning the kettle on. He could still hear the conversation quietly going on in the living room, little snippets coming into focus. Sherlock quietly breathed a sigh of relief at being away from it for a moment. John needed help, and so Sherlock was willing to do whatever he needed, but he was still much more comfortable to be in his own little corner of the flat for a moment.

He began to get out the tea bags, cups, milk, and sugar as the water boiled. He thought for a moment, then sighed as he grabbed his own little jar of honey from the back of the cupboard. It was his favorite, and so he felt the need to keep it hidden, but again this was for John. And sometimes, all it took was a little extra to fix even the worst of situations. A couple moments later, he heard shifting in the living room, along with footsteps approaching.

John stepped quietly into the kitchen.

“She’ll be alright. She’s pretty much sobered up now, just shaken up from last night.”

He sighed angrily, leaning into Sherlock again, wrapping an arm around. Sherlock draped an arm on his shoulder in response. “I swear if I ever find the _bastard_ that even thought about doing anything to her…”

He shook his head. Sherlock went about preparing the tea. He hesitated for a moment, then put a bit of honey into all three cups. John looked at the cups in confusion, and then realization dawned on him.

“Isn’t that your honey? That little jar that you always think you’re hiding from me?”

“…Yes.”

From anyone else, this would have just been a little gesture of friendliness, an attempt to make a good impression on a newcomer. But coming from Sherlock, John knew, this was something much bigger. It was a clear indicator that he genuinely cared that both he and Harry were happy, something very rare from him. John smiled sweetly, squeezing Sherlock.

“You know, despite what people say, you really can be quite soft at times.”

“I take offense to that.”

“I don’t care.”

Sherlock flashed his little sideways grin at that, making John’s heart skip a beat. That smile was always his favorite, that little flash of emotion. John sighed again, but for the first time that day, it was out of comfort and happiness.

A lot of times, it was the little things that counted.


End file.
